Saturday, May 21, 2016

1984.

When they caught her they found this poem crumpled up in her tightened fist:

I want to be there with only the sun to watch over us
With our backs to its warm gaze
Where we can grow our hair to be a million feet long
And adorn it with a million more flowers
Where we can smile til our cheeks hurt
Where there is always a hand to hold
Where we can dress up or dress down
No matter the day
Where we can buy every shade of pink lipstick
Or read every real, unchanged, book as it were
No one to tell us no or where to be
We just would.

That’s my dream.

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